


Irreversible

by Phoenix7



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Diamond & Pearl & Platinum | Pokemon Diamond Pearl Platinum Versions
Genre: Aconite, F/M, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Murder, Mythology References, No Pokémon, One-Sided Relationship, icarus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 19:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15978503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix7/pseuds/Phoenix7
Summary: don't fly too close to the sun, lest your wings melt and you fall into treacherous waters





	Irreversible

“It’s not often that someone comes here to look for this book,” he told her over the polished oak table, posture ramrod straight as he watched her read. Locks of wavy blonde hair spilled over her shoulders as she pored over the book.

“But it’s a beautiful story…” she murmured absently. “I like to think that Icarus really touched the sun, one day.” She looked up, grey eyes shining, and though her voice was barely above a whisper in the tranquil library, it contained a passionate excitement that sent her words tumbling over one another.

And for some inexplicable reason, he found that he had remained in his chair, listening to her buoyant whispers about everything from how birds’ wings work, to the exact genetic makeup of the Minotaur.

Later, he would come to realise that inaction, too, was irreversible.

 

_ This will be easy _ , I thought, breathing in the cold night air. My footsteps were mere ripples under the indigo velvet sky, their sound melting away into the stillness of the night. It would be an absolute scandal - the next few days’ headlines would be all over it. The murder of Miss Cynthia Shirona, intimidating yet esteemed leader of Shin’ou? The media would swarm to it like bees to honey, and the public, once stung by their pernicious stings, would never notice what lay in wait.

 

“I’ve told you mine,” she pouted, elbows resting on the open pages of the book she was reading. “So it’s only fair!” 

He said nothing, only observing the coiled, bell-like flowers illustrated on one of the pages. Their deep purple meshed perfectly with the cream-coloured page, and the image, though quite distinct, was not glaringly vivid.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to!” she said, gazing innocently at him. Her voice lowered even further, to a childish, dramatic whisper. “It’ll be our secret!”

She moved to close the book, but as her arm moved, he caught a glimpse of the words before they were swallowed by darkness. 

_ ‘Aconite, also known as monkshood, wolfsbane…’ _

“My name is Cyrus.”

 

“Are you taunting me?” I whispered, looking up at the glowing full moon. “Tch… no matter. The moon and sun will forever remain in opposites.”

I almost laughed as I twisted the handle of of the full-length window and found it unlocked. A window? Who was I kidding? Nothing would stir tonight if I threw the front door open and stomped down the hallways. My shadow rippled across the bed as I slipped in, the light of the moon momentarily dimmed. I reached out to smooth the hangings over the bed, which had been, conveniently, left open.

“Too trusting,” I grumbled.

 

“Why do you like Icarus’ story?” she asked, matching his steps stride for stride. A faint flowery scent tickled his nostrils whenever the wind gently ruffled her waist-length hair. He stayed silent, to watch how the sunlight sparkled in her eyes.

“Does, it, maybe, remind you of something?” she pressed, the long bangs that covered her left eye swishing with each step.

“Human folly,” he stated simply, turning a corner.

 

In the shadows… that was how I preferred to work. The shadow force that lies in wait just beyond the surface before striking when least expected. Yet, without light, shadow could not exist.

Sunlight… moonlight. Stark white light in an austere office - a man leaning across his desk towards me, thick round glasses magnifying his bulging eyes. His sagging cheeks and pale skin only served to emphasise his resemblance to the amphibian family. His hair was sparse and limp, and his eyes were an almost translucent grey.

“You know what is expected from a leader of this esteemed organisation,” he informed me coldly, with a voice like dissonant chords.

“I understand.”

 

“This book…”

Her grey eyes blazed with passion, and the smile she wore as she looked up was one that extended to her eyes and lifted her cheekbones. 

“The human spirit really is a powerful thing, isn’t it? No cage can truly imprison us.” 

Her fingers gently traced the once-embossed, peeling title.

“Human spirit?” he said, blankly.

“Willpower? Emotion?” she suggested, opening the book absently to smile down at Icarus’ flight towards the sun. She turned the book around, leaning back to watch rays of sunlight filter through the library’s Victorian windows.

“Freedom.”

But as he observed the faded illustration, another picture came to mind. A few lonely feathers drifting across the treacherous open ocean.

“Inhibitors of good judgement,” he muttered.

 

I held the vase in my gloved hands, holding it up before allowing it to slide out of my grip. The sound of glass shattering was quickly muffled by the thick carpet, and I watched as water flower out and took with it a few fragile petals.

Behind me, the occupant of the bed did not stir.

 

“Can you guarantee that you have no contacts in the outside world?” Charon asked. “No one with whom you have shared stories? Secrets?”

Grey eyes, darker than Charon’s but full of spirit. Flowing, blonde hair that carried a sweet scent. A smile that filled her whole face with a glow.

“One,” he said, remembering faded footsteps in shadowed side streets.

“Then you know what you have to do,” came the indifferent reply.

“I understand.”

 

“Congratulations,” he offered, but her expression did not change.

“You didn’t -” Her voice had changed so much, these few years. It was warmer, now, more mellowed, but as she spoke I could hear the consternation in her tone. 

“It is done. Neither you or I can reverse it now,” I stated, turning to walk away. She followed, for a while - falling easily into the rhythm of my strides, only a few paces behind.

“If Icarus had not been weakened by emotion, he would not have fallen.”

I listened as the sound of her footsteps slowed, before finally going silent. 

 

He brushed the long lock of golden hair to one side, tucking it behind her ear to reveal her fluttering eyelashes. It would not be long, now. Her eyes flew open in shock as he pressed the coiled, bell-like indigo flower into her hand.

“I must say, you have beautiful eyes,” he said, allowing the moon’s rays to illuminate their stormy grey. He could practically see the puzzle pieces aligning in her mind, reflected in the clear depths of her eyes. “Too bad… they’ll never reach the sun.”

He pulled a finger, still encased in black gloves, over her eyelids to close them before the light fully died in her eyes.

“Don’t fly too close to the sun,” he spoke into her ear, “lest your wings melt and you fall into treacherous waters.”

 

I flung my head backwards, staring up at the cloak of swirling darkness that was the sky. The stars twinkled, but their light was too small, too insignificant, to shine through the murky darkness. Only the moon’s rays shattered on the ground, casting the world in a silvery glow.

When had moonlight become so fragile?

**Author's Note:**

> Shin'ou: Japanese name of Sinnoh  
> Cyrus: From Kuros, Persian for sun.  
> Cynthia: Refers to the Greek goddess Artemis, who is associated with the moon, which may be a parallel to Cyrus, whose name refers to the sun.  
> [extracted from bulbapedia]  
> Aconite: in Victorian Flower Language represents misanthropy (a dislike of humans). Partly inspired by Severus Snape.
> 
> A/N: This was originally written for a crime narrative writing assignment in school (prompt was 'irreversible'), with some minor tweaks. The references to the myth of Icarus were inspired by LizHollow's Across the Sun series, so let me take the opportunity to recommend it. Yes, I know Charon is technically the most junior Galactic admin, but artistic expression took the front seat. And by artistic expression I mean that I wrote this entirely for my own satisfaction. Thanks for reading, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it, because I know I enjoyed writing it. This pairing isn't one that I necessarily support, but I hope you like how I developed on it.


End file.
